The Transcontinental Love Letter
by bethaboo
Summary: Rosalie meets Emmett--but doesn't exactly "meet" him. How does their relationship develop when they're on other sides of the country and communicate solely through words? A story inspired both by fiction and fact. AH.
1. Chapter 1

**To Andrew: For you, a story that tells you everything you should ever need to know.**

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_Rosalie_

The ice clinked satisfyingly into the short, squat glass behind the bar, and I watched with eager restraint as the bartender poured my first vodka cranberry of the evening. It was Friday night, after a long week, and my best friend Bella and I were out on the town to grab a few, much needed, drinks.

Bella and I both worked for the Portland Winterhawks, a junior hockey league team that did surprisingly well in our market. Take the Pacific Northwest location and then add in a fierce rivalry with neighbor Seattle, plus a team that consistently won, and we were a _lot _more popular than most junior hockey teams could pray to be.

I was the team spokeswoman. Bella worked behind the scenes, drafting our message and marketing materials. We'd met on the job five years ago, and the friendship between us, while not instant, had developed into an incredibly strong one.

This week had been hellish, at best, and even our friendship had been tested. All I wanted was to kick back, have some laughs and down a few drinks. So we'd headed out to one of our favorite bars, the Shanghai Tunnels, in downtown Portland, and I waited for the delightful sound of ice on glass and the sharp bite of good vodka.

Dumping the lime in the glass, I twirled the bright orange straw and perused the room, wondering if there was anyone here that was worth spending even five minutes with.

Bella was outside on her cell, reassuring her husband Edward that we'd be sure to take a cab home. I finish my scan of the room and frowned. I loved this bar, but I hated hipsters, which made it a rather awkward place to do a pickup. Anyway, I was hardly the type of girl that a hipster would even consider dating.

I could mince words, but really, I was unabashedly Barbie come to life. I didn't want to be, really, but since life had handed me the cards, it made no sense not to run with them. So I did, with a vengeance.

I used my beauty like a weapon, but very few people I ran across recognized this. Men, in particular, seemed rather oblivious. Idly, I wondered if I could ever meet someone who would like me for _me _instead of for my nice rack and head full of blond hair. I sighed; deep down I was beginning to think it was hopeless.

If I ever wanted to date anyone interesting, I'd have to dye my hair brown and wear three sports bras—a step I wasn't exactly willing to take. Besides, it had said more than once that blondes have more fun and I was willing to attest that it was definitely true. But lately, I'd gotten sick of the carousel of men who never stayed and I'd begun to long for one who would stick.

Like Edward had stuck with Bella.

I loved my best friend dearly and I would never, ever, tell her, but I envied her relationship with her husband so much that sometimes the longing and jealousy threatened to consume me. They were deeply in love and utterly convinced of the perfection of their match—and honestly, I was convinced of it too. Bella and Edward fit together like two halves of a whole, and seeing them together only served to remind me of how truly alone I was.

No parents. No siblings. No real relatives. And no husband.

I took a slug of my drink and leaned back in my chair, only to nearly fall out when Bella's work Blackberry began to vibrate on the hardwood of the bar.

The number was unknown but I noted the blinking red flag on the corner of the screen. It was an important call—a _really _important call, if that was any indication, though half the time people couldn't figure the damn phone out and I knew Bella had sent out high priority texts for a week before she realized what she was doing.

I hesitated for a second, but then I grabbed the phone up before it could go to voicemail and clicked the send button.

"Hello?" I said cautiously, ready to play Bella if I had to. Technically we were off work, but the one thing I'd learned working for this particular organization was that there was no such thing as being truly "off work."

"Is this Bella?" The voice was deep and incredibly male, with just a tinge of a Southern accent. It was a sexy voice—a voice that reminded me of Rhett Butler and staircases and being dragged into bed by my hair. . .

"Uh," I stammered, unsure as to what I should say and even more unsure why my mind had gone so totally south after just hearing the man's voice.

_Get it together, Rose_, I snapped at myself.

"You don't sound like Bella at all," the man said and this time his voice was friendlier and almost jovial. I breathed a little easier.

"This isn't Bella. I'm Rosalie Hale, her co-worker. Can I help you?"

"Bella called me about an hour ago and left a voicemail saying she needed some advice regarding private plane rental."

Advice? And why did the man sound like he _knew _Bella? Suspicion grew inside me.

"I remember she was working on that, yes, but I'm unclear as to why she would need your 'advice.'" I kept my tone professional and added a touch of frosty bitch. It had never failed me before and I didn't expect it to fail now.

But it did.

The man simply laughed, long and loud and heartily into the phone. I held the phone slightly away from my ear and frowned.

"This is Emmett. Emmett McCarty. Edward's brother."

"I'm afraid I don't quite understand, sir. I wasn't aware Mr. Cullen had any brothers."

"Frat brother. We go _way _back."

I glared at the bar, and tried to take back control of the conversation.

"And you have advice on the matter of. . .private plane rental?"

"I fly for one of the companies that does 'em. She wanted to know who she could trust to give her good rates, and I can definitely give her some advice on that."

I groped in my long-term memory for any mention of one of Edward's friends who was a pilot and finally unearthed a long ago conversation in which Bella had briefly mentioned this Emmett.

He'd had to miss the wedding because a last minute commission had come up, and I remembered feeling a slight bit of regret, because Bella had said that she thought we'd hit it off. But instead of having a wedding hookup, I'd had to settle for watching Bella and Edward slow dance their way into nuptial bliss through the fog of vodka instead of a few screaming orgasms.

It wasn't his fault that he hadn't been at the wedding, but I still felt the rankle of that missed opportunity and though I should never have said a word, the alcohol I'd already consumed seemed to have loosened my tongue.

"You missed the wedding," I blurted out.

There was a distinctive pause on the other end, like he couldn't believe I'd mentioned that particular fact in the middle of what should have been a strictly business conversation.

"I did," he drawled. "You must have been the blond 'goddess,' that Bella reassured me would be all over me if I showed up."

I made sure that he heard my sharp intake of breath. Except I wasn't all that offended. In fact, I was rather flattered that even after three years he still remembered who Bella had promised he'd meet.

Except that we'd never met.

Emmett laughed again, and I found myself smiling despite my conflicted feelings on the subject.

"Bella reassured me that you were on tenterhooks to meet me too so need to act the prim maid with me, sweetheart," he drawled and I could almost picture me and him, on a sweltering Southern evening, facing off over a white-flounced canopied bed.

I sucked down more vodka, and prayed that it would clear my head.

"I was hardly on 'tenterhooks,'" I scoffed. "I just like to know I have options at a wedding."

"Aren't you just the little opportunist?" he asked with a chuckle and I wished we weren't on the phone so I could inflict frostbite with my ice cold blue eyes.

"Talk about the pot calling the kettle black," I retorted.

"Oh sweetheart, I'm not going to mince words about it. I was almost more disappointed not to meet you than I was to miss Edward's wedding. Bella's description of you was . . .memorable," he said, drawing out the last word, and I knew he was thinking of what he thought I looked like, and all the fantasies running through my mind froze.

"I'll tell Bella to call you back," I said as frostily as I could. "She's outside calling Edward on her personal cell phone."

And before Emmett could protest and further the conversation, I'd clicked the end button and slid the phone as far down the bar as I could. I eyed it warily and prayed that he wouldn't call back. He didn't.

Bella chose that moment to reappear and I pounced. "You got a call," I said, trying to hide how rattled I was by the conversation. "Emmett McCarty returning your voicemail."

Bella's sweet face lit up in a smile. "Oh good, you got to talk to Emmett, finally."

"Finally?" I deliberately pretended like I had no idea what she was talking about.

"He's the guy I was telling you about that ended up missing the wedding. You know, Edward's frat brother. The pilot."

"Ah, yes," I said noncommittally.

"It's not that important," Bella announced, "I can call him back on Monday."

"Oh," I said weakly, angry that I'd answered the phone even though it could have waited. Damn Blackberrys and their misleading high priority alerts.

"Let's have a drink," Bella said happily and turned toward the bartender. I resolved that I wouldn't think any more about Emmett and our conversation. By tomorrow, he'd be totally forgotten—a minor little blip on my radar.

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**AN: This will be another short story, kind of like The Accidental Kiss, that I wrote partially for Valentine's Day and partially also for a special someone . . .**

**Look for updates to show up in the next few days. It'll be entirely posted (fingers crossed) by V Day. Songs for the story are up on my profile.  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**To Andrew: This is for all those first conversations . . .**

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**_Rosalie_

Monday morning dawned cool and rainy and I frowned at the clouds as I stalked into the office. I told myself that the reason I'd been replaying my conversation with Emmett McCarty over and over in my head was that nothing else of interest had happened all weekend. That _had _to be the reason. You couldn't, I reasoned, develop a _crush _on someone you didn't know—that you'd never even seen!

Bella worked on the other side of the office, so I didn't see if she called Emmett back like she'd said she would and I told myself all morning that I didn't matter if she did, but I knew I was lying to myself.

If I didn't care, why would I spend all morning finding excuses to pass by her office? Every time I passed by, we'd exchange a few words, and each time I had to tamp down the question of Emmett from rising out of my throat. Who he was, what he was like, where he lived. . .and if she had called him back, if he had mentioned me . . .

At lunch, I gave myself a stern lecture. I could have any man I wanted. There wasn't any point in being intrigued by a man I'd never met and was not exactly likely to meet anytime in the near future.

I just needed to forget about Emmett McCarty and our stupid, foolish conversation and move on.

After lunch, Bella showed up at my office and threw a wrench into my new plan.

"So I talked to Emmett today." Bella smiled knowingly as she leaned on the door frame and I grimaced inwardly. No doubt the big buffoon had made a lot more of our phone call than it had actually been.

"Oh?" I replied, trying to sound as disinterested as possible when in reality, I was nearly hanging on her every word. I was barely managing to keep my twelve year old inner self in check so she wouldn't eagerly ask what he'd said about me.

Bella chuckled. "He said you were both an icy bitch and hot for him. He said you even brought up the wedding."

To my mortification, I turned bright red. I couldn't even remember the last time I'd blushed. "Uhhhh. Maybe I did. I just was trying to place a name to a . . . well. . .well a memory?"

She didn't seem to believe me at all, and I couldn't say I blamed her. I was acting weird. What was even worse was that I couldn't figure out _why_.

I opened my mouth confess all, though typically I wouldn't have breathed a word, but Bella asked the question before I could say anything. "Rosalie, what's going on?"

"Nothing," I was able to tell her honestly. "I just had a rather. . .strange conversation Friday night with Emmett. That's all."

"Can you tell me why he's asked for _your _phone number? And not your work number. Your _personal _number."

The blood drained from my face, leaving me stark, sickly white under my golden tan. It was as if the man _knew _that I'd been fantasizing about talking to him again.

"I gave it to him. Was that okay, Rose?" Bella sounded concerned, probably since I looked like I'd just seen a ghost.

"Um, yeah. Sure." I put on a false front of bravado, but I saw a flicker of worry pass over her face before she left. Hell, I was worried about myself and my nearly visceral reaction to Bella's admission.

And that was even before my phone vibrated next to me on the desk. Without even opening the text message, I knew it was Emmett. He sure didn't waste much time, and while I told myself that was creepy and weird and nearly stalkerish, I was secretly thrilled with his eagerness.

It had been so long since I'd met anyone who was even remotely intriguing, and though I could hardly call this a 'meeting,' I wasn't sure I cared anymore.

Ignoring the butterflies fluttering in my stomach, I opened the text message.

_Guess who, sweetheart?_

I burst out laughing despite myself. There was something so brazen, yet laidback about this man—something ultimately irresistible that broke down all my inner walls as if they didn't even exist.

With trembling fingers, I typed out a reply and then held my breath as I pushed send.

_Either a dream or my worst nightmare._

I'd decided to play it cool and slightly aloof, but still mildly flirtatious hoping that this well-tested routine would keep him at a distance. Of course, the men that had fallen for that act weren't Emmett.

I stared at the phone intently for thirty seconds before it buzzed again.

_You know that isn't going to work with me, right?_

I glared at the phone and sat back in my chair, plotting my next strategy, but before I could even think of anything to say to his blunt honesty, the phone vibrated again.

Glancing over at it, I thought for half a second that maybe it was someone else, but the timing was too suspicious. Triumphantly, I decided that he must have realized he'd pushed me too far. He'd texted me again to retreat and/or apologize.

_Trying to plot your next trick?_

Unfortunately, no. He hadn't texted to retreat and/or apologize. I sighed and quickly typed back a response.

_That's a little (or a lot) presumptuous._

I only had to wait twenty seconds this time for my phone to buzz, and this time I hadn't even bothered to put it nonchalantly back on the desk. I was gripping it tightly, more excited for a silly, stupid text message than I had been for my last supposedly hot date.

_Whatever you have to tell yourself, darlin'. But I don't think you're going to stop anytime, presumption or not._

Damn him to hell, he was so right. I was incredibly intrigued and you couldn't have pried my Blackberry out of my cold, dead hands.

Three hours later, the butterflies in my stomach had dropped down to my lace Victoria Secret cheekies, and I was feeling nearly faint from arousal. From _text messages_. I was sure that I'd lost my mind, and as I logged onto Verizon to check how near we were to reaching my limit, my jaw dropped.

We hadn't just reached my limit, we'd exceeded it. Three hundred text messages in three hours. I was obsessed, and so was he, clearly. I was going to have to upgrade my plan _stat_.

For the next two weeks, we texted each other obsessively, like a pair of giddy teenagers. I stopped trying to hide my smiles whenever the familiar buzz sounded and Bella walked around the office with a knowing look on her face. I wouldn't tell her anything except that, "yes, we were communicating," but she was dying to know more and had even resorted to threatening to have Edward call Emmett.

I called her bluff and just stayed silent. I didn't want to share Emmett with anyone. The secret conversations we had were essentially meaningless, and yet in two short days, my world had seemingly begun to revolve around them. I woke up to the familiar buzzing noise and fell asleep with the phone next to my head on the pillow.

I'd learned that Emmett loved action movies _and _romantic comedies and was as football obsessed as I was. We dissected the last Superbowl and how refs should have called a lot more blocking on the Cardinals, and how the Steelers had the best defense that the NFL had seen in years. We talked about religion and politics and my shopping addiction and why he had always wanted to be a pilot.

With all the constant communication between us, I should have been tired of him. The novelty should have warn off, but as I sat in front of my TV, my feet propped on my coffee table, nursing a Blue Moon beer, the ever-present Blackberry on my lap, I realized that I was even more interested in him than ever.

It was my second beer, and when the phone rang, I picked it up almost absentmindedly, not caring who it was because it wasn't a text message and thus, not Emmett.

"Hello," I said blithely, not realizing that I was not just up to my ankles in shit, but my knees as well.

"Hello, Rosalie."

I almost dropped the phone and my beer, one after the other. It was _his _voice. The voice that had haunted my sleeping and waking thoughts. The voice out of which flowed endless sexual fantasies composed of staircases and white canopied beds and Charleston porches.

"Uh," I stammered. Under the best of circumstances I could flirt my head off with just about anyone at any time, but none of those men (or even women) had known even a tenth of what Emmett knew, and well, these weren't exactly the best of circumstances.

"Smooth," he chuckled, and I wanted to hang up and start over, but I knew he'd never let me forget it if I even suggested it.

My mouth opened and closed again and I couldn't seem to form thoughts, nevermind words.

"Cat got your tongue?" He was definitely laughing now, and I wanted to sink through the floor in mortification. I was supposed to be the smooth, charming, sophisticated woman, and a bunch of text messages had reduced me to a stammering, immature green girl. And then the one thing I hated about myself kicked in.

"Emmett, hi," I said rather too brightly and a dangerous sense of foreboding settled around me. I could sense the mania coming from a mile away, but I couldn't do anything to stop it. It was going to happen and I hated how crushed I felt when I realized that after this phone call, he was never going to want to talk to me ever again.

But instead of being smart, I kept babbling on, barely stopping to breathe and not waiting at all for him to reply.

"I'm uh. . .just watching . . .uh. . .Dave Letterman . . .and uh. . .drinking a beer. Yeah, a Blue Moon? Do you like beer? Of course you do, silly me. You're like . . .the ultimate guy. Full of testosterone."

I stopped awkwardly, realizing in the middle of my long rambling rant what I'd just said. I'd just admitted that well. . .Emmett was the perfect man. And not just the world's perfect man—but the perfect man for me.

"You finished yet, darlin'?"

I opened my mouth then promptly snapped it shut. "Yes," I said with as much emphasis as I could.

"Maybe I should have warned you," he said with amusement rife in his voice.

"You should have," I retorted. "I don't take well to surprises."

"Obviously," he said, still chuckling. "I don't believe I've ever heard anything like that."

I giggled a little, and decided to hell with the sophistication. Obviously, I was way out of the cool, calm, and collected league right now. "Well, I'm glad I could be the first."

"Baby, you might not have really been the first, but why do I get the feeling that you're the only one that'll matter?"

Silence fell over the line and I had a feeling that he was being dead serious, but how could I be scared or upset at his words when I'd been thinking along nearly the same lines?

"That's okay with me," I told Emmett in a small voice. "Just forget temporarily that I'm blond."

"Not possible," he scoffed.

"And why is that?"

"I know you hate being judged on your looks alone, but trust me when I say that your blondness is kind of an inherent part of you. It's not _why _I like you, but it's a part of the whole that makes you, you. And that I _do _like."

"You've never even met me," I said, feeling the seriousness of this conversation begin to creep into unknown territory. "You don't even know what I look like. I don't know what _you_ look like."

"Does it matter?"

I'd wondered the same thing myself. Would physical attraction simply follow an insanely strong emotional attraction? I'd begun to think that it wouldn't matter what Emmett looked like, as long as he was the same person he'd presented himself to be. And for me, one of the most unabashedly vain, surface-level people I knew, this was a real development.

The next day I could barely drag myself into work. I'd been up until 2 AM talking to Emmett on the phone, and I didn't even want to do the math and figure out how long _he'd _been up. Probably he hadn't even bothered going to bed. He'd made excuse after excuse every time I suggested he go to bed, and finally I'd just stopped mentioning it. Besides, he wanted to go to sleep just about as much as I wanted him to.

To my chagrin, Bella was waiting in my cubicle as I stumbled in, eyes puffy with lack of sleep, clutching a venti triple espresso from Starbucks.

"Long night?" Bella asked innocently. I knew better than to believe she had altruistic motives at heart though. She was dying to hear an update on Emmett, and we both knew it.

"Uh, yeah," I simply said, refusing to address the one subject she was dying to hear more on.

"I had Edward call Emmett last night. He never answered his phone, which is rather odd," Bella observed, her eyes glued to mine, "considering that he literally hasn't been able to put his phone down for the last week, you two have been texting so much. And now, here you are, clearly exhausted from a late night. If I was a betting woman, I'd say you guys talked on the phone last night."

I told myself to stay strong, but secretly, I was dying to tell Bella everything. Never having had this sort of relationship before, I was in uncharted territory and though I hated to admit it, I was scared out of my fucking mind. There was so much emotion between us, and though I had already run through the scenarios in my head, I had yet to come up with a realistic future that wasn't fraught with heartbreak. Despite this, I still hadn't been able to break it off with him. In fact, I fell deeper every day. The phone call last night had simply been another layer to a relationship that was becoming increasingly difficult to define.

"Fine," I confessed. "Yes. We did talk on the phone last night. He called, unexpectedly."

Bella smiled. "Were you your usual manic self?"

"Only a little," I said, taking a large gulp of coffee. "I did manage to calm down though."

"Good. You do know, he's crazy about you."

I pondered this. Theoretically I knew it was true, but in reality, how was that even possible? How could you honestly be crazy about someone you'd never even met?

How could I say that I was nuts about him when I'd never even seen a picture of him? Every time I stopped to consider this possibility, the butterflies in my stomach fluttered again. I was scared and stupid and insane and crazy.

I told Bella this, and she threw her arms around me. "Rose, it's okay. I know it's scary, but maybe it's scary because it's so right. Did you ever consider that?"

I had, but I didn't want to admit it to Bella, or myself, or especially Emmett. Really, I was just a total chicken shit.

Bella squeezed me tight again. "It'll be okay. Just trust."

As she disappeared out of the office, I thought about how much difficulty I'd had in the past trusting anyone. I'd never completely trusted a man before, at least not in a romantic sense, and now I was expected to trust Emmett in that way without ever meeting him. That particular revelation was almost too much to take in, and I thought about it, in the back of my mind, all day. But I couldn't deny that despite my fear, I longed for Emmett. Longed for him to put his arms around me, longed for us to be able to cuddle on the couch watching movies. Longed for the feel of his skin on mine.

I'd only known him two weeks, but in those two weeks we'd had more meaningful conversations than I'd had with the last boyfriend I'd had, who I'd dated for almost a year.

It seemed that finally, I realized that I was in over my head, and this time, I wasn't sure if I cared that much. I lectured myself to just enjoy the ride and not focus on what was sure to be an inevitable heartbreak at the end.

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**AN: Again, this is going to be published fast and furious. Look for another chapter either tonight or tomorrow morning. . .**


	3. Chapter 3

**To Andrew: It's hard to trust from 2,788 miles away, but with you, it wasn't even hard. In fact, you've made it the easiest thing in the world.**

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_Rosalie_

Two weeks later, Emmett called me while I was work, which was unlike him. After those first few heady days, we'd tried to buckle down and act like adults, at least at work. After work, though, we laughed and giggled and swooned over each other like a couple of lovesick teenagers. But at work, at least, I tried to be professional.

I answered the call as I reminded myself that he must have something portentous to share. And I wasn't wrong.

"Emmett, what's going on?"

"Hey babe, something fantastic happened!" He sounded unbelievably excited—like a kid let loose in a candy store or me in a mall with a limitless credit card.

"What?" It was impossible to prevent the eagerness from leaking into my voice. I'd found over the last month that anything that he cared about, I found I did too. It was impossible not to let our lives mix somehow, even though we weren't actually in the same state.

"I got my schedule for the next month. In three weeks, I'm flying a businessman into Portland."

My heart dropped through my stomach to the floor and beat sluggishly and unevenly. I didn't even know what to say. We'd never discussed meeting before, but that was clearly what he was trying to make happen. And why wouldn't I want to meet Emmett?

Maybe because we were soulmates of sound and words—not soulmates of the flesh.

"You're not saying anything." Emmett's voice was undeniably reproachful and I could tell his feelings were hurt that I hadn't been as immediately excited as he was at the prospect of meeting in person.

How could I explain to him that I was full of a mixture of fear and undeniable excitement? How could I tell him about one without mentioning the other?

"So you think we should meet?" I managed to get through my uncooperative throat and past my leaden tongue.

"The question is," Emmett said more sternly than I liked, "is why you don't want to?"

"It's not that I don't," I insisted. "I just think it's a big step. Maybe we're not ready for that yet."

Emmett made a frustrated sound deep in his throat and I wanted, desperately, to agree that I was being ridiculous, but I couldn't. Fear seemed to have totally paralyzed me and any rational thinking I had left.

"So that's your decision then?" Emmett's voice was hard and hurt.

"For right now," I replied, my heart full of misery.

"Fine. I have to go. Bye." Emmett hung up before I could even protest.

After the phone call, I couldn't even face work. I told Jessica, our boss, that I was going home for the day. I said I was sick, and didn't even care that I was clearly glowing with health.

I hated what I'd said to Emmett, but I didn't know what else, even after hours of contemplation, I could have told him. I still felt the same way and I just wanted him to understand that something of this magnitude couldn't be rushed. If he pushed too hard, I knew myself well enough to know I'd run.

I waited all afternoon and evening for Emmett to call me back, or to text me and apologize for being so short on the phone. He didn't call or text or anything. I supposed he was waiting for me to make the first move again, but I was too scared if I called, he'd still be angry.

Finally about midnight, I threw on a pair of sweatpants and flip flops and grabbed my car keys. When I was depressed, I liked to eat junk food, which is why I didn't keep it in the house. Unfortunately, there was a Walgreen's right across the street from my apartment complex, and I'd become desperate enough that I didn't care about cellulite or calories.

Grabbing a bag of barbecue potato chips and a bag of peanut butter M&Ms, I trolled the aisles of the drugstore restlessly, wanting something else but not knowing what it was. I passed the haircare aisle, the makeup section and the cold medicine without even pausing.

Then I saw it.

The middle of the Walgreen's was decorated in an explosion of red and pink. How could I have forgotten that Valentine's Day was only weeks away? I glanced at my Blackberry, and was shocked to see that in fact, Valentine's Day was three weeks away.

Three weeks.

My heart stuttered and nearly stopped in my chest. Emmett hadn't been assigned to come out to Portland for work. Somehow he'd managed to request the assignment or maybe he'd even taken the week off so he could come out and be with me for the most romantic day of the year.

Love, or something so close it nearly seemed to be identical, swamped me so completely that it felt as if the entire world was tilting on its axis. Emmett McCarty, regardless of what he looked like, cared enough about me that he was willing to go out on a limb so we could be together.

I nearly ran out of the store, dropping the bag of chips and the candy. I didn't want junk food now; I just wanted to talk to Emmett.

I dialed his number with shaking fingers as I climbed into the car. I didn't even remember how late it was where he was until he answered the phone, sleep fogging his voice.

"Rosalie?" he questioned groggily.

"I'm sorry it's so late," I said in a rush, "I just had to talk to you."

"It couldn't wait until morning?" he asked, sounding more than a little annoyed. Of course, it was 3 AM where he was.

I felt a little bad, but ultimately, I knew I couldn't wait to tell him about my decision.

"You're going to be here for Valentine's Day, right?" I asked almost casually, but I knew the excitement in my voice gave me away.

"Yes, I am." Emmett sounded hesitant and I guessed I couldn't blame him. After all, I'd shut him down so completely before. I hadn't even been capable of discussing my fear and my uncertainty with him like a mature adult. No doubt he'd decided that he didn't want to see me after all, but I owed it to him to at least be honest so I plunged ahead anyway.

"I want to see you, meet you. But I'm terrified, Emmett. This is fucking scary."

There was silence on the line and I wondered for a brief yet everlasting second if maybe he'd hung up on me.

"It _is _scary, but I think it'll be worth it. You have to know how much I want to meet you, Rosalie." He sounded hushed and almost reverent and I believed him. Even better, finally, I felt I could trust him and with something bigger than I'd ever imagined.

"I know it'll be worth it," I told him, and I could nearly feel strength of his smile across the tenuous phone line. "Even though I'm scared."

"If you weren't, I'd be worried."

"I should let you go back to sleep," I said shyly, a little ashamed that I'd totally forgotten the time difference between us in my eagerness to tell Emmett how I felt.

"I've told you, I don't need to sleep nearly as much as you think I do," he teased, and I couldn't help but laugh.

"I know, but it's still late. Go to sleep," I playfully ordered and we said our goodbyes and I pressed the end button on my Blackberry.

Leaning back in my seat, I knew I'd taken a stand, one way or another, and I felt good about it, but honestly, the future still loomed ahead and it was dark and unknown and almost dangerous. I still half-believed that I wouldn't get out of this without a broken heart, but I'd almost come to terms with the possibility because I believed that at least the momentary, fleeting happiness would be worth the pain.

The three weeks passed both incredibly fast and mind-numbingly slow. Whenever I talked to Emmett, and that was nearly all the time now, the days seemed to drag by. I'd ask him every day how much time we had left, and the answer was always far, far too high.

But before I even knew it, the day was upon us, and I couldn't deny that I was literally shaking as I drove towards the airport to pick him up. So many questions were racing through my mind.

How would we greet each other? What if he didn't like what he saw? What if I didn't like what I saw? What if we weren't as perfect for each other as I'd always thought? What if things were awkward and weird?

Of all of the things I asked myself those final minutes before Emmett arrived at the lounge past the security gate, I knew for sure that at the very least it was sure to be awkward and weird. Both of us had confided so much that though we knew our personalities seemingly in and out, there had been zero physical interaction.

I peered nervously down the concourse, and tried to take a few deep calming breaths. When I'd asked Emmett last night how I'd recognize him, he'd simply laughed and said I would just know who he was. At the time it had seemed like an incredibly romantic gesture based on chemistry and fate and faith. Now, in the light of day, with the possibility of approaching the wrong man, it seemed rather foolish.

There were several men walking down the security aisle and my heart nearly slowed to a sluggish halt, and then began beating hard and unevenly. My palms were sweaty and I suddenly felt an intense desire to pee. I couldn't even remember the last time I was this nervous.

None of them men seemed right, so I gazed around them, shifting my weight from foot to foot. No doubt I was white as a sheet and hardly looking my best. Not for the first time, I wished that we'd met at the wedding and there hadn't been this excruciating anticipation before our first meeting.

A tall, built man with dark hair and dimples stopped in front of me and for half a second, I nearly ordered him to _move _because I was searching for my soul mate and god damn it, he was blocking my view.

Then I glanced up at him again and decided that sinking through the floor would suit me down to the ground right now.

"Hi Rosalie," Emmett smirked, and I looked up, breathless and more than a little shell-shocked. I'd been half-prepared for him because of Bella's description but really, he was _so _tall that I nearly had to crane my head to see his face clearly. He was tall and handsome and more than I could ever have had a right to expect.

In fact, my skin was virtually tingling with how close he was and how intensely his eyes were boring into mine.

"Hello," I stammered, not sure at all what to say to him. I'd been mentally preparing myself to _not _go manic on him, but in all my fierce commitment to stay normal, I'd seemingly forgotten to figure out what I should actually say.

I opened my mouth to say something else, _anything _else at this point, but I never got the chance. One strong arm hooked around my waist, pulled me towards him, and slowly, deliberately—like he couldn't wait a second longer—Emmett kissed me.

For just half a second, I wanted to pull away. The last place I wanted to have our first kiss was the very public airport concourse, but the soft pressure of Emmett's lips on mine stopped all those thoughts in their tracks because then all I could think was this was _Emmett _and he was kissing me and it was so much like all my dreams that I wanted to die a little from the sheer wonderfulness of it all.

The kiss went on and on and Emmett pulled me hard against him—or maybe I pushed into him, desperate to get even closer—it was hard to say, really, because I was so absorbed in the feel of his lips on mine and the intimate brush of our tongues. Never in a million years would I have done this with any other man, but with Emmett it felt and seemed incredibly natural and right.

Of course we would fit together this well—like I'd been created just for him to kiss. I wondered if this was why every other man had felt anywhere from slightly off to completely wrong.

Finally, we broke apart, gasping for breath, but still, Emmett didn't let me go. I rested my head on his chest and pressed my eyelids closed, to prevent the sudden tears of happiness from escaping. Girlfriends had told me what it was like when you met _the _man, but I'd always secretly discounted their stories as a bunch of bullshit. But, really, they hadn't been so wrong after all. It _did _feel different with the right man—like the heavens opened up for the angels to burst into sudden, glorious song.

"We should get out of here," Emmett mumbled, and I wanted to argue. I felt just fine right here, thank you very much. But I supposed I saw his point. I'd just been about five minutes and a few less people away from letting him take me in the airport terminal.

"Okay," I said reluctantly.

"You don't want to go somewhere. . .more private?" Emmett laughed suggestively, and I glared at him.

"Darlin', I was just teasing you. You know that. Not that I'd complain."

Secretly, I wasn't sure if he was kidding or not. But I did know that I wouldn't complain either. So maybe I should just take us back to my apartment and get to know him the way I'd been dreaming about since the moment I'd heard his voice the first time.

If I wanted to be honest with myself, part of the reason I'd been so epically nervous was because I'd dreaded the moment where I'd discover that our physical selves weren't nearly as compatible as our personalities. But it appeared that this wasn't going to be the case at all. In fact, it seemed as if it was going to be exactly the opposite.

"Let's go," I said, reaching for his free hand and intertwining my fingers between his. "I want a chance to talk to you before we go to the game tonight."

"Oh, we're going to talk alright," Emmett boasted with that hint of a Southern accent just a little stronger, and, unbidden, I imagined my favorite fantasy again.

A shirtless Emmett carrying me up the staircase, my nightgown trailing down the steps like Scarlett O'Hara, and him taking me to our white-flounced canopied bed, and finally, him blowing my mind just like Rhett Butler would have blown Scarlett's.

* * *

**AN: I keep forgetting to thank my beta, CallistoLexx. Thanks Tif! Also, there will probably be two updates today, if I'm going to get this beast written by Valentine's Day. Thanks for everyone's reviews. . .y'all apparently like my quite saccharine story!**


	4. Chapter 4

**To Andrew: So this isn't fact yet but someday it will be . . .**

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**_Rosalie_

We were in my Jeep, heading back to my apartment before the Winterhawks game, when he asked me the question that made me question whether he had a fast track to my thought processes.

"Why do you get that faraway look in your eyes whenever I talk to you?"

How could I possibly explain that when he spoke, with that incredibly sinfully hot voice, all I could think of was getting him into bed, Gone with the Wind-style?

"Uh, I'm just thinking," I hedged. "About things."

Emmett threw his head back and laughed. I gripped the wheel tighter and tried to force my mind back to some sane place, but unfortunately it went right back to the gutter.

"You like the accent, don't you?"

I blushed, a fierce hot crimson. "Yes," I confessed. "It's incredibly hot."

A conniving, yet adorable, expression passed over his face. "Does this mean all I have to do to get you in bed is talk dirty to you? Croon sweet nothings in your ear?"

I hardly wanted to admit he was right, but in truth, he was. In fact, he might not even have to do that to get me just where he wanted me. I was so crazy about him that I'd do just about anything for him—and just about anything to make him happy.

And that's why I couldn't lie to him. "Yeah, I guess that's pretty much accurate." I tried to force the blush down, but I turned bright cyclamen regardless of any wishing or hoping or praying on my part.

Emmett reached out to capture my hand, and he brought it to his lips, brushing a kiss over my skin. "I love how you blush, and believe me, I think you're not a blusher, normally."

"I'm not."

"That makes it even better. I think I'm going to make it a goal of mine to get you to blush as much as possible when I'm here."

"Obviously it isn't hard for you," I told him, stifling back my giggles. He was so irreverent and different and natural. Completely opposite of every man I'd ever dated, and somehow that made him completely right. I felt more like myself with him than I'd felt with anyone else or even when I was alone. I'd never believed that the right person could bring out the best in you, but Emmett certainly seemed to do that with me.

"I'm not even trying," he laughed.

I pulled into the parking space in front of my townhouse, and turned off the car. "Well, here we are," I said brightly, trying to hide my sudden nerves behind a wall of bright cheerfulness. I knew that I liked him, but what if Emmett decided he didn't like _me_? I was hardly lacking in self-confidence, and I'd never had a man turn me down before, but I was suddenly wracked with self-doubt and fear over his reaction to me.

I opened the door, but before I could step out, Emmett caught me again by the hand and held me inside. "Rosalie," he murmured, and pulled me towards him, grazing his lips over mine. "You know that I feel like I've been waiting my whole life for you. I'm not going to decide you disgust me. I promise."

His lips drifted more firmly against mine, and I responded. Soon, I was nearly crawling over the central console in my need to be closer and closer to him. His hands were all over me and nothing had ever felt so good in my entire life.

He was the one who broke the kiss. "Inside," he rasped. His composure was clearly broken and I loved to see him as desperate for me as I was for him.

We got inside the townhouse as fast as we could, before he tackled me again, or even worse, I tackled _him_. I gave him a quick tour, while wringing my hands nervously. The tour ended in my bedroom, and I tried to look anywhere but at the big bed that dominated the room.

In a nod to all my fantasies, I'd actually gone and bought a bunch of ruffled white sheets and a comforter, and a bunch of pillows. My bed looked like the Antebellum South on steroids.

"Rosalie, look at me," he ordered, and I glanced up at him to see him looking almost sternly at me. "If you want to wait, we can. You have to know I'd wait forever for you."

"I know," I said so quietly I wasn't sure he could actually hear. Never had I been so scared before having sex, even the first time. With Emmett, it felt like that first time rolled up with the most important test I'd ever taken. I knew I'd never be able to forgive myself if I messed this up.

And then we were facing off before the bed, just like we had in a million of my fantasies. I wondered who would make the first move and prayed it wouldn't have to be me.

Like he'd read my mind again, Emmett dropped his bags on the floor, and without his eyes leaving mine, he began to unbutton his dark blue shirt. Following his lead, I stepped out of my shoes, and pulled off the blue and white striped shirt I wore. He had a white undershirt on underneath, and I watched the play of his muscles underneath the cotton as he leaned over to untie his shoes.

Shoes and socks gone, he stood there just in a white shirt and jeans, a Southern wet dream come to life. Tremulously, with his dark blue eyes encouraging me, I stripped off the white tank top I still wore, and watched as his eyes drank in my skin and the white lace bra I still wore.

He quickly pulled off his own shirt and gathered me into his arms. "Rosalie," he whispered, "you're so beautiful. I wouldn't have cared if you were ugly as a crone, but it's certainly nice that you're gorgeous."

I laughed and kissed him. We tumbled onto the bed together, and he smoothed the hair away from my face before bending down to ravish my mouth again with his.

We kissed for a long time, barely pausing for breath, and it was like learning each other from the first kiss until the more physical aspects of the relationship all at once. I didn't mind—we'd already covered all the emotional and verbal steps that a couple passed through before sleeping together. We just hadn't been able to indulge in one single physical gesture, so now we indulged in all of them, at once.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Emmett reached for the button on my jeans. I put my hand on his, and he stopped. He looked up at me, startled.

"I have a surprise for you," I told him, surprised at how shyly I was saying this. After all, I was Rosalie Hale, the enchanting temptress that had lured dozens of men to their death without a single tear. And now, here I was blushing and stammering and shy, reduced to this by a man who had already captured my heart and my soul.

I slid off the bed, encouraged by Emmett's fascinated expression. Slowly, I unbuttoned, then unzipped, and finally lowered my jeans. I knew from the look of dumfounded wonder that had fallen over his face that I'd done something very, _very _right.

He cleared his throat and his hands pulled me toward him. "Rosie, darlin', how did you know I would love those?"

I nearly smirked at the possessive way his fingers were digging into my thighs, like he couldn't bear to ever let me go, because he hadn't even seen the best part of these panties yet.

I turned around and was gratified to hear his sharp intake of breath. At first I hadn't been sure if Emmett would like these, but they made me feel pretty, and after all, I'd hadn't known if he would even see them or not.

Really, I'd told myself as I'd dressed this morning, I was wearing these ridiculous white lace bow panties because I felt more confident when I was dressed well inside and out—but I knew I'd been lying to myself then.

I'd known that we'd fall into bed almost from the minute we saw each other and I wanted something on that would blow his mind.

And right now, from the lust darkening his eyes, I could tell his mind was _definitely _blown. I gave me and Victoria's Secret a mental high five.

"Come 'ere," Emmett murmured, pulling me onto the bed while his fingertips traced the white floppy bow that rested right over my ass. "These are the god damn hottest things I've ever seen."

I raised an eyebrow. "You mean you like bows?"

"Hell yes I do. I didn't know it until now, but I think I'm a new convert." Emmett lifted me as easily as if I were a feather and tucked me beneath him.

"And now," he continued, "you've got yourself a man who wants you _bad_."

I giggled a little helplessly as his hands finally disappeared underneath me and unhooked my bra. His hands, large and just a tiny bit rough, smoothed the lace fabric away and settled onto my skin.

He touched me like I was his most precious possession, yet like he couldn't wait a moment longer to know me completely. His tongue curled around one of my exposed nipples, and he slid his hands down my stomach, caressing and teasing me in expanding circles.

By the time he reached my now-soaked white lace panties, I was gasping for air. There was something incredibly sexy about his deliberate, slow and precision travel down my body—like he'd imagined doing it in his head a million times.

And as if on cue, Emmett murmured to me, "God, baby, I can't even tell how many times I've pictured you just like this."

I sighed happily and lifted my hips up, trying to coming into contact with those amazing hands. "Please, baby," I whimpered. "I need you."

"I'm not ready yet," he soothed. "I need more of you."

Carefully, he peeled off my panties and spread my legs open. I heard him hiss and I smiled a little, before he bent his head down and swiped his tongue up my dripping wet slit, ending just before my clit.

"Emmett," I panted, "_please_."

Unfortunately he continued to tease me, nibbling and licking everywhere but where I wanted him to the most. By the time he finally did, wrapping his tongue around my clit, I was nearly incoherent with lust and my vision was hazy with pleasure.

"Rosalie," he mumbled right into my pussy, "I want you to come for me _right now_." I felt the impending orgasm approach and I knew that even if he hadn't asked I would have come right there, but having him demand it of me brought it on harder and faster.

"Ohmigod," I screamed out as I came hard. "Sooooo good." The world blacked with the violence of my spasms and a minute later when I opened my eyes, Emmett was leaning over me, smiling, and his face tight with what had to be lust.

"Need you _now_," he ground out and I reached down to free him from his jeans, only to discover that they were already mostly unbuttoned and well. . .it seemed that my man didn't like either the hassle of boxers or the constrictions of briefs. He preferred to go commando. If I hadn't already decided I loved him, then I knew I did now.

I also loved the way he groaned and the tendons of his neck tightened when I grasped the base of his cock and began to stroke him.

"No," he nearly growled. "You can't do that," he said, shedding his jeans and removing my hand reluctantly. "You do that and I'm going to come right now."

I shrugged a little and smirked. "Not a bad thing in my opinion."

"No," he insisted. "Do I need a condom?"

My jaw dropped as he single-mindedly positioned himself at my still-pulsing entrance. I arched against him and shook my head briefly. "On the shot," I moaned loudly as he slid inside me.

I discovered quickly that not only was Emmett's personality seemingly designed for me, but his cock was too. It fit like it had been made for me, and I groaned, thrusting up to meet his firm strokes.

"So good," Emmett groaned and just the sound of his voice, with him inside me just like I'd pictured a thousand times in my head, made me come hard again, convulsing around his hard cock.

"God, Rosalie," he ground out as he threw his head back and joined me.

He collapsed next to me on the bed and I immediately latched onto him, resting my head on his chest and feeling like I never wanting the feeling of his skin on mine to disappear.

Emmett stroked my hair back from my face and I couldn't even remember the last time I'd felt this cherished. Oh, that's right. I never had. Just this one small facet of his personality made me one hundred percent sure that I never wanted to be without him ever again.

It was only then that I remembered the undeniable fact that shaped our relationship. I never wanted to live without him and we lived on separate coasts of the United States. The hideousness of the situation was finally beginning to really sink into my consciousness, and before I could stop it, a tear drifted down my cheek and dripped onto Emmett's bare chest.

And of course, because we were us, I didn't have to even explain what I was so suddenly sad about. He knew.

"I know, darlin'," Emmett said resignedly. "It really blows. But I promise we'll figure it out this week. We do have a whole four days to decide what to do."

I knew he was right, but I hated the fact that during these four days of what was going to be undoubtedly bliss, I'd have the decision of what to do with the rest of our lives hanging over my head. But if that's what I had to do to have Emmett, I'd do it. In fact, I'd probably do a lot more—but he didn't have to know that. At least not yet.

* * *

**AN: Thank Andrew who didn't want me to end this yet. I debated and debated, but there will be more. . .I promise!**


	5. Chapter 5

**To Andrew: Happy Valentine's Day, sweetheart . . .**

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The next morning, daylight streamed through the partially shuttered windows and I groaned, rolled over and hit something warm and hard, yet soft. For a second, I froze, unable to remember what or who would be in my bed—then suddenly, it all came back to me.

Yesterday had been the day Emmett flew into Portland. The passionate kiss he'd given me at the airport, and the incredible way he'd stared at me. Then, the incredible sex we'd shared at my apartment, and then finally, dragging ourselves reluctantly out of bed to take in a Winterhawks game. I thought, wrapping my arms around myself and smiling fiercely with happiness, that Emmett probably hadn't ever met a girl who liked sports as much as I did. In fact, he'd seemed rather shell-shocked at my bloodthirsty reaction to the fights that broke out on the ice.

I giggled a little and rolled over, tucking my arms and body next to his warm figure. He moved restlessly and wrapped himself around me.

"Rosalie," he murmured into my hair, "we should get up. We'll be late."

I wasn't aware that we'd had plans for today, as Emmett had insisted that he be in charge of the whole day of February 14th. Obviously he'd taken that pretty literally.

"But it's early," I groaned into the pillow.

"I'll make you breakfast," Emmett coaxed with that wonderfully sexy Southern accent in full force.

And really, when he put it that way, who was I to deny him anything? He could have me, heart, body and soul.

Emmett removed his arms from around me, much to my dismay and rolled out of bed.

"I'm going to go take a shower, then make breakfast," Emmett called over his shoulder as I admired his naked ass walking towards the bathroom.

I rolled the pillow up and tried to drown out the sound of the shower so I could theoretically go back to sleep. Unfortunately, sleep didn't seem to be in the cards because Emmett sang horribly off-key in the shower and proceeded to continue as he got dressed and walked into the kitchen.

Finally, I gave up, and rolled out of bed, reluctant to leave the cocoon of warm sheets and blankets. Throwing on Emmett's discarded t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, I walked into the kitchen and thought that if this was what being with Emmett was like, I could get used to it in a hurry.

No man ever cooked for me. It was _always _the opposite. So it was positively heart-warming to see Emmett facing the stove, his back to me.

"Whatcha cooking?" I asked, wrapping my hands around his waist and laying my head on the warmth of his back.

"Omelets," he said, clearly concentrating on the pan on the stove. "And you do know, you're asking to get taken on the kitchen floor."

I giggled and reluctantly moved away from him. "I'm hungry this morning so I think I'll take the omelet," I told him, curling up on a barstool.

He turned and shot me a playful look that brought his dimples into full force. It was then I knew that I was really, totally toast. And not just bread. I was finished, done, kaput. This was it for me. If I couldn't have this man, I didn't want any man.

"Go take a shower," he waved me away. These won't be done for awhile and we've got to leave pretty soon."

"Where are we going?" I had a feeling that Emmett wouldn't tell me, but there wasn't any harm in using some of my feminine wiles to try to find out.

"It's a surprise," he said unsurprisingly, giving me a playful push toward the bathroom.

An hour later, I was showered and dressed and totally full of the most incredible omelet I'd ever eaten and driving towards a destination that I didn't know.

"We're going to get lost," I said crossly, but Emmett only would smile broadly.

"Don't like surprises, do you?"

"No," I glared. "I like knowing everything."

"Oh, I bet you do. But this one is worth converting over to the idea, trust me."

"Cocky, are we?" I shot another glare his direction.

He threw back his head and laughed. "Baby, you _love _it when I'm cocky."

I frowned and muttered about testosterone-riddled males under my breath. "Okay, where am I supposed to turn?"

We were in Hillsboro, a suburb of Portland, and heading towards the airport. Emmett had pointed out a small access road that led right towards it. I was beginning to think that maybe my surprise had something to do with flying, which made no real sense.

"Are we going flying?" I asked, dubiously eyeing the small aircraft that were coming into view.

Naturally, Emmett refused to answer, but as I parked where he told me to, I knew with a sinking feeling of dread that soon we'd be airborne in one of those tiny, dangerous-looking planes.

Emmett got out of the car and started walking towards one of the large storage facilities. He greeted a man who emerged and they talked for a few minutes. I stayed back and watched, trying to shake the feeling that I'd hate Emmett's surprise but being completely unsuccessful.

Why hadn't I told him I was afraid of flying? It had seemed like a smart omission at the time, considering his vocation and his passion, but now, in the face of actually having to fly, it felt more than a little foolish.

Emmett finally came over to me and threaded his fingers through with mine. "That's ours for the afternoon," he said with pride, pointing towards one of the small planes. I looked at it with trepidation and tried to paste a look of enthusiasm on my face.

"Great!" I said, hoping he wouldn't notice that my hands had suddenly gone clammy with sweat.

We headed towards the plane, and I noticed that the man Emmett had been talking to was loading some supplies in the back. I really, _really _hoped that we wouldn't be spending the night anywhere. Truth be told, I wanted this to be over with as soon as possible, and to be back in my apartment, safe and sound.

It wasn't that I didn't trust Emmett as a pilot—it was more that I didn't trust the aircraft.

"Ready to go?" Emmett turned to me and I knew it was in that moment that he discovered that I wasn't nearly as enthusiastic as I'd pretended to be.

"Um, yeah. Sure." I tried to fake him out one last time, but I knew he'd seen right through me.

"Rosalie, are you okay?" He wrapped his arms around me and held me so tight I wondered if he'd ever let me go.

"No," I said in a small voice, hiding my face from him. He'd gone to such lengths to plan this surprise, and if I was anyone else than who I was, it would have been an incredibly romantic gesture. Instead, I was just terrified.

"Are you afraid to fly?" His voice was kind and he didn't _seem _pissed off, but I still hesitated to tell him the truth.

I nodded slowly.

"I should have asked you," he said ruefully, "but I really wanted it to be a surprise. This is my fault. We don't have to go."

I hated the disappointed tone I heard in his voice, and somehow, I dredged up a tiny bit of courage that I hadn't known existed inside of me.

"No," I said decidedly, and I wondered where all my fearlessness had suddenly come from, "let's go. I want to."

He pulled away from me and looked down at my face. "Are you sure, Rosie?"

"Yes," I insisted and walked toward the death trap, hoping that we could get off the ground before I changed my mind.

Emmett strapped me in carefully in the seat next to the pilot, and I stared wide-eyed at the vast instrument panel. I'd known, of course, that Emmett was a pilot, but I'd never imagined that flying a plane could be this complex. Fear roiled in my stomach, but I tamped it back down with determination. I was going to enjoy this. I wouldn't let my stupid paranoia ruin my Valentine's surprise from the man I loved.

It was then that I realized where the courage had come from. It hadn't come out of strength of character or spirit, but instead out of love and I knew that I'd make it through this, if only because I wanted to be strong for him.

That, of course, didn't stop me gripping the handle next to my seat hard during the takeoff. I hated those and the landings more than anything, but I wasn't going to tell Emmett that. In fact, he was concentrating hard on the flying the plane, and I certainly wasn't going to distract him.

We got off the ground in one piece and I breathed a silent sigh of relief. I hadn't exactly expected to crash, but I definitely felt better having that out of the way.

"Rosalie," Emmett said, breaking the silence between us. "You okay?'

"I'm fine," I told him and was surprised to find that I wasn't lying for his benefit. I gradually released the handle and began to look out the window. I'd never been in such a small plane before, and I'd also never flown for pleasure, only to get somewhere I needed to go.

"I was planning on landing at the tiny airstrip I know and having a picnic, but if you don't feel comfortable doing that. . ."

"No," I interrupted, "we'll do exactly what you planned. I'm fine."

That wasn't one hundred percent true, but I found that the incredibly beautiful scenery we were passing was helping to relax me. Emmett's clear expert handling of the plane also did a lot to put me at ease.

We flew over the Columbia Gorge and began our descent. I forced myself not to touch the handle this time, and the landing was easy and smooth. Fear was no longer clogging my throat. In fact, I was shocked to discover that I was actually _smiling_.

We taxied to a stop, and Emmett jumped out of the plane and helped me to the ground.

My breath clogged in my throat as I looked around. We were nearly on the edge of the Gorge, with an incredible view of what surrounded us. Emmett grabbed the picnic basket and a blanket and we hiked a little ways towards what he said had been recommended as the best picnic spot I'd ever see.

He hadn't been led astray. The small meadow was picture-perfect and for once, it wasn't even raining or particularly windy, which for the Gorge was a miracle. A canopy of trees covered us from view and even more amazingly, sunlight filtered through the leaves. I couldn't have found a more romantic spot even if I'd designed it. I decided that maybe, just _maybe_, the plane trip had been worth it.

We spread the blanket out on the ground, and began to unpack the basket. Emmett opened a bottle of chilled Oregon chardonnay and poured me a glass but refused any for himself. "I'm flying, remember?" he told me and I laughed.

"You're going to get me drunk now," I told him, batting my eyelashes, "and then take advantage of me up here, all alone."

"It's possible," Emmett said with mock seriousness, pulling me in for a long, lingering kiss.

"Then I suppose I should tell you that there won't be any complaints from this quarter."

"Good," Emmett said. "Let's eat first, though. I need to keep my strength up."

"You do," I giggled. "Really."

Emmett's eyes darkened imperceptibly, and the expression on his face grew serious. And I knew what he was about to say and I was both terrified and joyous.

"Rosalie," he began. "I never thought that when I called my old friend's wife back with an answer to a simple question that I'd find such an incredible and unexpected person on the other line."

He gathered my hands in his. "You've totally changed everything. I hadn't expected to find you in such an unexpected place, but there you were. You're the most incredible woman I've ever met and Rose, I love you."

A warm and contented feeling snaked through my insides, and I knew then that I'd never really be alone again. I threw my arms around his neck and tackled him to the ground, kissing him hard. "I love you too, Emmett," I told him between kisses.

* * *

I'd never wanted to tell him goodbye. In fact, I'd purposefully focused on anything but the goodbye, but of course, it came and it came way too soon.

Standing at the security checkpoint, he promised yet again that we'd find a way to be together, forever. I believed him not because I knew it in my logical mind to be true, but because my heart told me that I wouldn't ever let this distance between us prevail.

Six months and three visits later, Emmett moved to Oregon and into my townhouse.

We didn't always get along, but the petty arguments and bickering always made the makeup seem all the more sweet. I'd learned to get over my fear of flying, finally, with his help. Though I could hardly say that our lives were perfect, I knew that I'd never, ever be able to live without him.

Obviously, he felt the same way, because, a year later, at the security checkpoint where I'd first met him, he got down on one knee and asked me to be his forever.

"Silly," I told him through tears of happiness. "I've always been yours."

* * *

**AN: And that's it, folks! Happy Valentine's Day and I hope you enjoyed this little story. . .I sure loved writing it! Thanks for all your reviews and your encouragement and also to my beta, CallistoLexx.**


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